“MELEKO! MELEKO!: AN EXTRACT FROM THE MASIBUMBANE PROJECT

Selby Goba’s warning pierced the crisp evening air, sending people scrambling for cover. Moments later, the heavily armoured police van snuck around the corner, and opened fire indiscriminately, tearing to pieces the door frame Selby had thrown himself and his mother through, split seconds before. Just another evening in apartheid-era Chesterville.

Gwendoline’s well-worn face wrinkles into a smile at the memory. “My brother was a very strong, very brave man. I miss him very much.

” Gwendoline Busisiwe Goba was born in Chesterville in 1944. Her father, a Priest, moved the family of ten from Mayville in the early 40’s- Gwendoline has lived here ever since. She has witnessed every incarnation of the town, from its birth as the most basic of housing for Durban’s detritus- the black, often seasonal workers and labourers, to what it has become today- a vibrant, diverse, fully-formed community. The photograph, taken in the 60’s, is of a young Selby walking down Durban’s West Street. Shirt neatly tucked in, and with his “best belt” on, Selby is photographed during his work as a chemist’s messenger.

It is important to note that jobs with access to potentially illegal material {drugs}, were very rarely trusted to black people, and this serves perhaps, as testament to the status the young man had garnered. The quality of the store-fronts, and the fashionably dressed white woman on the edge of the frame infers that on this particular street, Selby was very much “the other,” and he almost pre-emptively brandishes his chemist’s notebook , warding off the inevitable demands for his pass book.

Gwendoline has kept this photo for over fifty years, and cannot help but smile every time she glances at it. “Selby was a loud person, always ready with a joke, and always ready to help those in need, even if it was just to give a warm smile and a friendly word,” she sharers. “Even through many of the difficulties we experienced as a family, he could be counted on to lift all our spirits. He was always well liked in the community even as a boy, and as he grew older, he gained respect. He cared deeply for his family, and cared deeply for his community.” A street photographer took this photograph unprompted, and this unguarded moment shows no glimpse of the gregarious, engaging young man that Selby, by all accounts, was. There is a set to the shoulders, and a purpose to his stride- as stoic as the mannequins he walks by, not bothering to even glimpse at the fancies he cannot afford, in the shop-fronts he would be barred from entering- no matter how funny your jokes, or how gainfully employed you are, this is apartheid-South Africa, and you are still black. T

his serves perhaps, as an apt metaphor for Chesterville- from the outside looking in, Chesterville, with its 99% African population, was seen as imposing and impenetrable- a conglomeration of “blackness.” But the individuals were and are- exactly that- individuals, with personalities, families, hopes, dreams and desires. And memories. “I remember back then, things were much, much harder than they are now. You could not even leave your area to look for work without permission. Many nights the whole family, all ten of us, would sleep outside in the cold, because the Landlord was allowed to lock us out the second we were late with rent. I remember on many of those nights, Selby was the one who kept our spirits up and assured us things would get better.” Selby Goba died of cancer in December of 1989. He is survived by his sister, Gwendoline, and two daughters.